As It Always Would
by ObliviousTrace
Summary: “On the ethereal plane of fantastic ideas and wonderful relationships, Ron and Hermione were superstars. They were epic. But here in the real world, it just didn’t quite work.” Getting there was never easy.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own it, if you couldn't tell.

A/N: Part one of two.

**As It Always Would**

**Part One**

When it ended, as (if she was being perfectly honest with herself) Hermione always knew it would, there was a surprisingly small amount of commotion. Oh sure, she and Ron didn't talk for a few weeks, and yes, she did sob in Ginny's arms more than once, and true, they both got drunk several times with friends, but after a while, everything just sort of slid back into place.

"Hey," the redhead said, with all his typical Ron eloquence. It was the first thing he had said to her since the "Fuck you, I don't care either," he had screamed at her back as she walked out of their apartment.

Hermione looked up from the book she was pretending to read.

"Hey," she said back.

And everything was alright.

* * *

_All she wants to do is kiss him again, which really, given the circumstances, is completely inappropriate._

_She's hurting too, she tries lamely to defend herself to the judging inquisition in her mind. She's fucking _aching_ with all this stuff. She knew that when it ended it was going to be nasty, and to be honest, she's still amazed they all emerged alive, but she wasn't expecting the hurt._

_And yet, all she wants to do is kiss him again._

_Hermione is always thinking, except for that brief moment she hurled herself into Ron's arms and finally did what she'd been fantasizing about since second year. It was the right thing to do then, in spite of it all, in spite of the fact that they were all about to die, to just take the moment and snog the hell out of the man she loved. It fit._

_But now, it's after, and she hadn't really thought about that. There are too many funerals, too many messes to clean up, too many nights she wakes up almost screaming because she keeps seeing Hagrid walk out of the forest with Harry limp in his arms. Looking at baby Teddy is like a stab in the chest, watching Molly's fierce grip on all her sons chokes up her throat, and seeing George alone hurts possibly the most, hurts in ways she would have never thought before to describe._

_Besides, she has no idea if he wants to kiss her. Sure, he kissed back, but that was in an extreme situation, everyone's emotions running high. Harry probably would have kissed back if he had been the one she jumped. Ron hasn't really said anything lately, not to anyone. He stays with his mother, helps George at the shop, even studies for the NEWTS they still get to take. He's like a different Ron, only still hungry._

_It's incredibly frustrating._

_Two months after The End (as she can't help but think of it), she officially gives up. Done. So ends the saga of Hermione and Ron, doomed to be a tale of missed opportunities, mixed messages, and one completely oblivious boy who can't seem to pull his head out of his arse._

_She thinks she'll leave the country for a while. She still needs to find her parents, after all._

* * *

"Balancing," she told Ginny over lunch. "We just couldn't balance each other and everything else we wanted to do. His traveling, my work schedule…and we both wanted our jobs, you know? We love our jobs. Both of us." She began to gesture with her fork, completely missing the glazed look in the redhead's eyes. "It's like, we each had a scale, and we put our jobs on one side, and each other on the other, and it came out…no, no, bad metaphor, it's like we only had so much room to carry things, like pack mules, or something…"

"Immaturity," she said to Harry while they were unpacking her books in her new apartment. "I'm not saying it's him that's the immature one, I mean the whole relationship was immature. We fell in love when we were twelve, of course it couldn't last. We both need new things, new experiences. It's like we were kids pretending to have a relationship. It's always been playground rules with me and Ron, we just can't function as proper adults around each other…"

"Fantasy," she told Ron one day while they watched a movie together. "On the ethereal plane of fantastic ideas and wonderful relationships, you and I were superstars. We were epic. But here in the real world, it just didn't quite work."

"You're mental," he said, and got up to get another butterbeer.

"Aren't you curious why we didn't work?" She shouted after him.

"We just didn't, Hermione," his voice came muffled from the kitchen. "Stop thinking so much."

"Get me one too?"

* * *

_"You're tan," he says._

_"Um, yes." _

_They look at each other. She doesn't understand why this is so strange. They haven't even hugged yet._

_He seems to have the same thought and moves towards her awkwardly. The hug is clumsy, stilted, and nothing like she remembered. He smiles a little when they move apart and start walking towards the Burrow._

_"Mum'll be happy to see you, she never shuts up about when you're coming back. Harry's out right now, he was angry he couldn't be here right when you showed up, but his training, you know…"_

_"I understand."_

_They enter the house and Hermione is hit by a ferocious Ginny hug._

_"Took you long enough! Four months, what the hell were you thinking?" Her friend berates as she squeezes her half to death._

_"Gin…I can't breathe," Hermione wheezes._

_The younger girl releases her._

_"How are your parents?"_

_Hermione nods. "Good, good, they're staying in Australia actually, they really love it there." Why is she so uncomfortable?_

_"Mum's in the kitchen, come on, she'll be furious if you don't say hello right away." Ginny charges off, full of irrepressible energy. _

_Hermione and Ron are left in the entry room together. It is far too small._

_"Well," she says lamely. "Better go."_

_"I guess."_

_They both try to move forward at the same time, bump into each other, laugh nervously, and finally, after much hesitation and several false starts, Hermione leads the way, suddenly anxious to not be looking at him._

_So this must be what it feels like to fall out of love, she thinks._

* * *

It's just sex, she kept telling herself. Just sex, just hot, wild sex.

Hermione threw the rejected dress onto her bed and went back to her closet to find a different one.

So what if this was the first dinner they were having together? It couldn't be a date. It _wasn't _ a date. You went on dates with people you liked, not people you hated and just happened to have incredible sex with.

Hermione let out a snarl of frustration as she ripped off yet another rejected dress. Why did she care so bloody much?

The doorbell rang, and she froze. Fuck. Here she was in a bra and panties, her silly bra and panties no less, no perfect dress in sight, and there he was already at the door.

A wicked idea suddenly popped into her head, and she smiled a smile that was entirely un-Hermione-ish. She swept the discarded dresses off her bed and onto the floor, slipped on a pair of heels, and walked out of the room.

It was just sex. They weren't dating, they were being…naughty. Or something. So if she answered the door in just her underwear, that kept it firmly out of date territory, right?

She almost giggled as she reached for the handle, but composed herself and set in body in what was undoubtedly a sexy and alluring pose.

"A little early, aren't you?" She purred seductively as she smoothly opened the door and promptly slammed it again.

"Ron! What the fuck are doing here?!"

"Oh, God, Hermione, what the hell are you doing?"

"It's my bloody apartment, isn't it, I…" She felt like her face was going to literally implode from embarrassment.

"What are you doing answering your front door in your knickers?"

"I wasn't exactly expecting you to show up, now was I?" She screamed at him as she frantically searched for something to cover up with. She spotted a blanket on the back of the couch and draped it around herself in some semblance of decency before opening the door. Ron entered, hand covering his eyes.

"I'm not looking, I'm not looking," he mumbled right before he tripped on her rug.

"I'm covered Ron, it's fine."

He tentatively lowered his hand from his face, ears as red as his hair, and grinned shyly.

"Bloody hell, why couldn't you have worn that when we were going out?"

Hermione blushed again and hit him.

"You never asked."

"A bloke doesn't always have to ask, does he? I mean, once in four years could have been nice…"

"Shut up, Ron." Hermione clutched the blanket tighter to her body and tried to regain some semblance of dignity. "Now. What are you doing here?"

"I came for some advice about Padma, but you're obviously a little busy. When did you start shagging someone?"

"None of your business."

"I'm your best friend. You haven't dated anyone since we broke up, it's my business."

"I've dated!"

"Who?" he asked accusingly.

Hermione sniffed. "That guy from accounting, once. And Dean for about a month."

"Dean?"

"We didn't really talk about it to other people, anyhow, I still don't see how it should matter to you."

Ron grinned. "Two guys in two years, Hermione, impressive."

"Fuck off."

"Well, three, if you count the mystery man." Ron said, sitting on the back of her couch and settling himself casually. "Who is he?"

Hermione resisted the urge to slap the smirk off his face.

"Ron, tell me what you want, so I can just do it and get you the fuck out of here."

"Am I interrupting?" a voice drawled.

Ron's head whipped towards the door and Hermione closed her eyes prayed for a giant chasm to open up beneath her and swallow her whole.

"MALFOY?!"

"That is my name, yes."

"YOU'RE SHAGGING MALFOY?!"

"Weasley, say it again a little louder, I don't think they heard you on the continent."

"MALFOY?!"

"He has a bit of limited vocabulary, doesn't he Granger? Sexy blanket."

Hermione almost opened her eyes, but decided against it.

"Ron," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "I believe you've met Draco."

* * *

_"You pet a kangaroo?"_

_"My mum's just mad about them. We went to this wildlife preserve at least once a week. She loves them."_

_Hermione leans over Harry's sleeping form to grab a handful of cherries. The three of them are sitting outside of the Burrow, having a picnic and catching up. After hugging Hermione and stuffing his face, Harry, who had just returned from a vigorous session of Auror training, quickly slid into sleep on the old blanket Mrs. Weasley had provided._

_Ron and Hermione sit in silence. Not exactly a companionable silence, Hermione thinks, more like the awkward silence that happens when you realize that for all intents and purposes, the two of you are alone and you have too much to talk about to actually start talking._

_She eats cherries instead of looking at him._

_Ron clears his throat a little and shifts. This does not make Hermione's heart lurch, as it would have before, because she is no longer in love with him. She keeps one of the cherry stones in her mouth, rolling it around and smoothing it with her tongue._

_"We all missed you, you know," he finally says._

_Hermione shifts the stone to her cheek._

_"I missed you all too."_

_Silence again. Ron coughs slightly. She wonders if he has a throat condition._

_"So…kangaroos, then?"_

_"Kangaroos."_

* * *

She stood in front of his door for ten minutes without knocking, just staring at the handle.

_I should go_, she thought, but her feet were rooted to the floor beneath them.

Hermione raised her fist tentatively, preparing to make contact with the wood, but her concentration was broken by the sound of people moving inside the apartment.

"Susan, I'm just nipping down to the shops, be back in a moment," Hermione heard a male voice say on the other side, followed by a muffled female response.

Her resolve suddenly drained away, Hermione started moving as quickly down the hallway as she could, but before she could even reach the landing, the door opened and Ron stepped out.

The redhead looked at her for a moment, eyes narrowed in confusion.  
"Hermione? What's going on?"

Hermione stared back at him and suddenly, alarmingly, dissolved into tears.

Before she even knew what was going on, Ron had her in his arms, supporting her as she sunk to the floor.

* * *

_It's been three months since Hermione returned and fell out of love with Ron Weasley, but she's beginning to wonder why she measures time like that. One week since she loved Ron, two weeks since she loved Ron…Hermione might have always been a little delusional when it comes to the redhead, but she's not _that_ delusional. _

_It's a big change, she thinks. Clearly it's bound to be a little weird. She's loved him for so long, not loving him takes some getting used to._

_After she scores perfect NEWTS, she gets an incredible job working for the Ministry, head of a department she suspects Kingsley created just for her: the Department for Disenfranchised Magical Creature Welfare. A bit of a mouthful she knows, but enough of a blanket term that she can turn her attention where it's most needed. House elves sometime in the future, but for now, Muggleborns and Squibs. Ron and Harry help her move into her office, which is so large she has no idea what she'll put in it. By the time she's all moved in, though, she realizes that she still has too many books for the amount of bookcases she has, and soon, the entire space is cluttered by stacks of paper, making the entire room look much more disorganized than one would expect of neat Hermione Granger. She likes it, though, spends more time here than she should. _

_The boys drop by whenever they can, though, like the day she moved in, they're more of a distraction than anything. She loves seeing them, but when she gets into her work zone, she's not sure she appreciates having the boy-who-lived and the boy-she-no-longer-loves sitting in her desk chair and playing with her paper weights. She sends them out for take-away just to get rid of them, but they always bring it back and coax her out into the Ministry foyer to eat with them. Hermione never admits it, but she does enjoy it when they can get her to forget her about work._

_Harry comes by one Monday morning, too early for lunch, a strange, sheepish grin on his face._

_"Morning," he says, blushing._

_Hermione gives him a quizzical look._

_"Morning," she replies, a little suspiciously._

_"So…" he drifts towards her bookcase, his hands jammed in his pockets, eyes idly glancing at the book spines._

_"So…" she prompts, her pen poised over her work._

_Harry reaches out and pulls a book off the shelf, flips through it, replaces it. Hermione's eyes narrow. He is acting far too casual._

_"Harry. What's going on?"_

_He turns toward her with a start, as if he's forgotten she's there. He blushes again._

_"Um, what are you doing a month from Saturday?" he finally blurts out._

_For one bizarre moment, Hermione thinks he's trying to ask her out._

_"Nothing that I know…" she replies, still suspicious._

_"Well, cause I…um…" He's stammering a little, anxious. "It's, um, Saturday, I mean, a month from Saturday, it's uh, sort of…well…Gin and I…our…our…engagement party…" A huge grin breaks out over his face as it turns a brilliant red, and he ruffles his hair with one nervous hand._

_"Harry!" Hermione squeals, and launches herself out from behind her desk, nearly knocking Harry over in a hug. "When did you propose?"_

_"Saturday," he replies, laughing. "I took her to Hogwarts, and to the spot we went when we first got together."_

_Hermione pulls back. "Saturday?" she asks._

_He nods, then lets out a short cry of pain and Hermione punches him in the arm._

_"It's Monday, you prat! When were you going to tell me?"_

_"Um, today?" he replies, then hurries on as he sees the expression on her face. "We wanted a couple days of just us…you know…like a secret. You're the first person I told!" He finishes, trying to belay her anger._

_At that, Hermione smiles._

_"Oh, Harry, I'm so happy for you!" She launches herself at him again. _

_"Happy about what?"_

_They look up to see Ron standing in the doorway, smiling down at them._

_Something in Hermione lurches, but she tells herself it's just her excitement for Harry._

* * *

"I'm going to kill him."

"No."

"I am. I'm going to make that creep wish he'd never been born."

"You're not going to kill him, Ron."

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Hermione closed her eyes wearily and reclined against the back of the couch. She was emotionally and physically exhausted after sobbing in Ron's arms for the better part of an hour. Susan had tactfully left the apartment to give them some space.

"He hurt you."

"It was my fault."

"How in the hell –"

"We weren't dating, Ron! We said we wouldn't get attached, we _promised_, and I did. So it's my fault."

"He's a bastard."

Despite her present mood, Hermione couldn't help but smile a little at Ron's stubbornness.

"I knew you'd say that."

A hand under her chin forced her to open his eyes and look at him.

"Hermione." His blue eyes were solemn and worried as they gazed into hers.

At that, she felt herself start to tremble again.

"I fell in love with him, Ron," she whispered. "I don't know how, or why. But I did." She caught a breath sharply in her chest. "And he hurt me. He _hurt _me!"

Unbidden, the tears started to flow again, slow and hot and pulsing. Ron reached out and gathered her to his chest, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head.

"I know," he said softly as he held her. "Can't I kill him just a little?"

That drew a small snort from her.

"Fine, then. Just a little."

* * *

_"Who are you bringing?"_

_Hermione looks up sharply._

_"What?"_

_Ginny rolls her eyes._

_"To the party? Who's your date?"_

_"I need a date?"_

_The younger girl smiles at Hermione's consternation. _

_"You should have one. Not just for the party, you know. It'd be good for you."_

_"I busy," Hermione grumbles as she turns her attention back to the invitations she's helping Ginny prepare._

_"Ron has a date," Ginny says, waiting for the brunette's reaction._

_"Oh, really?" Hermione says, her voice incredibly calm._

_"Hmm hmm. Some girl he knows from Auror training. Apparently, she's absolutely brilliant."_

_"I'm sure," Hermione says, carefully inking the name "Dean Thomas" onto a piece of cream colored stationary. _

_"You know, you could use magic for that," Ginny nods towards the calligraphy pen Hermione holds in her hand._

_The older girl shrugs._

_"I used to do calligraphy with my mum. I like it. Anyway, I think they look better by hand."_

_"By your hand, maybe," Ginny laughs. "If I did it, it would look like Teddy wrote them."_

_Hermione smiles. _

_"I haven't seen Teddy in weeks. How is he?"_

_"Big."_

_"I bet."_

_They work in silence for a few moments, until Ginny, fiddling with a piece of ribbon, looks at Hermione._

_"So you don't mind?"_

_"Mind what?"_

_"That Ron's bringing someone."_

_"Of course not," Hermione says, not meeting the redhead's eyes. "Why would I?"_

_Ginny says nothing, but Hermione can feel that she wants to._

* * *

"I ran into Draco the other day," Hermione began mildly, and out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Ron and Harry stiffen.

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yep." Hermione toyed with some nuts in the bowl in front of her and takes a sip of her drink.

"How was it?" Ron's voice was normal, but Hermione knew that he and Harry were looking at her with concern.

"Just fine." She took another sip, then smiled. "He's getting fat."

Harry chuckled next to her, but Ron wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Hermione turned on her barstool to face him.

"Ron. We were together for less than a year, over a year ago. I'm fine. Really."

"Okay," he said, but his voice is still a little suspicious.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Hermione turned back to the nuts. "You boys really think I'm going to just perish in heartbreak, don't you?"

"Well, now that Malfoy's fat, no. You clearly won that one," Harry said, motioning to the bartender to bring them more drinks. Tactful as always, he changed the subject. "So Ron, how's Karen?"

The other man shrugged.

"In America, last I heard."

"You broke up?" Hermione asked, her turn now to worry.

"Yeah, a couple weeks ago. She wanted to move in together, I didn't, she said something like 'I can't do this anymore, Ronald,' and then she went to America."

"You okay, mate?" Harry took the beers handed to him by the bartender and passed one down to Ron.

"Yeah, actually. Wasn't too attached, anyway."

"You know Ron, for all the flack you give me for never dating, you sure have trouble holding onto women." Hermione smiled a little into her new martini.

"Hey, I break up with them, okay? You make it sound like they run screaming."

"You'll have to settle down sometime, Ron."

The redhead stole some nuts from Hermione and threw them at Harry, who ducked, grinning. "You sound like my mother. What happened to you?"

"The love of a beautiful woman."

"I've had the love of many beautiful women, thank you very much. Just because you settled for the first one who'd take your stupid gob…"

"Second," Hermione broke in. "There was Cho."

Harry shuddered a little.

"And let's not dwell on that one, thanks. I didn't ask you guys to meet me here to talk about Cho."

"Why did you want to meet, Harry?" Hermione asked, fiddling again with the nuts until Ron stilled her hand, glaring at her.

"Don't touch them all if you aren't going to eat any of them."

She popped a couple in her mouth and glared back.

"When you two are done…"

Chastened, they turned back to Harry, who clearly was about to grin himself to death. They looked at him expectantly.

"Ginny and I are going to have a baby."

"Harry!"

Unfortunately, the combination of alcohol and barstools proved to be a dangerous one as Hermione's hug knocked Harry to the ground, her landing on top of him.

"Is she going to do this every time?" Harry croaked, his eyes meeting Ron's.

The other man grinned at him.

"Probably."

* * *

_The girl Ron brings _is_ brilliant. Brilliant and beautiful, though her nose might be a little too big for that adjective, Hermione thinks, and her laugh is too loud to make her as charming as everyone seems to think she is. Come to think of it, she's really quite annoying, telling those stories and looking at Ron like that. Everyone's probably laughing at her jokes because they feel sorry for her, big-nosed thing she that is._

_"That Melissa's funny, isn't she?" Molly says as she floats past Hermione, beaming with joy that her daughter's getting married. It is, Hermione reflects, the first time she's seemed truly happy since Fred died. Happy, but clearly delusional, as Melissa isn't funny at all._

_"Funny girl, that," Harry says when she encounters him at the buffet table. "Troy seems nice."_

_Hermione makes a noncommittal noise, grabs a miniature tart, and walks away from her best friend, who has also clearly lost all perspective on humor._

_"Hermione, there you are!" _

_She looks up at Troy, the eager, young Ministry employee who agreed to be her date enthusiastically. A little too enthusiastically, she thinks. Men shouldn't act like puppies._

_"I was just getting a tart," she replies, and he smiles. _

_"Can I get you a drink? Anything? God, Hermione, have I told you how beautiful you look?"_

_If he had a tail, she thinks, he would be wagging it._

_"Um, another glass of champagne would be nice," she says._

_"Okay! Don't move, I'll be back in just a second."_

_The moment he disappears in the crowd, she beelines around the house to the empty side of the lawn. She leans her back against the wall of the Burrow and closes her eyes. She doesn't know why she feels so out of place. She's so happy for Harry and Ginny, she's glad that everyone seems joyful and light for once, but she can't help feeling like there's an aching expanse in her chest, and she has no idea why. _

_Troy's cute. He's cute and smart, and he is clearly infatuated with her. Then why does she feel like she'd rather be on a date with McLaggen again then suffer his adoring gaze?_

_"Hermione?" _

_Her eyes snap open and she straightens up quickly, her hands automatically smoothing the wrinkles out of her new blue dress._

_"Ron. Hey."_

_"Hey," he says, coming over to her. "I was wondering where you went."_

_"Oh, you know," she scuffs the ground a little with her toe. "I needed some quiet."_

_This is clearly a cue for him to leave, as the unexpected beating of her heart is making it anything _but _quiet. Ron, oblivious as always, doesn't take the hint._

_"Me too," he says, and leans against the wall beside her. She fiddles with the folds of her dress, for some reason not wanting to look at him._

_"Melissa's wonderful," she says finally, breaking the silence._

_"Isn't she? I knew everyone would love her."_

_"Well, yeah, everyone does!" Hermione forces a little laugh that sounds awkward and strange._

_"She was really glad I asked her, you know."_

_"I'm sure," Hermione mutters, but Ron misses the dark tone in her voice and carries on._

_"It's good for her to get out a bit. Her girlfriend's out of town, and she's just been moping around."_

_"What?" Hermione's head snaps up to look at him. He is clearly surprised by the force of her reaction._

_"Her girlfriend. She's off on a mission in Scotland, been gone about two months, and Melissa's just gotten all moody and depressed. Thought it would cheer her up a bit to go to a party."_

_Hermione stares at Ron, still not comprehending._

_"So she…she's a lesbian?"_

_"Um, yeah," he replies, looking at her as if she's mental. "You okay?"_

_"So the two of you – you aren't…"_

_"What? No!" He laughs. "You thought we were together? Merlin, no!"_

_"Stop laughing at me," she says, looking away again, trying to ignore the fact that her stomach is knotting painfully. _

_He complies, and straightens up again. When he speaks again, his voice has changed._

_"No, 'Mione, it's, I'm not seeing anyone, it's not like that…." _

_Hermione can't look at him. She _won't_ look at him. Her hands clench in the fabric of her dress as she fights for self-control._

_"Hermione," Ron says softly, and suddenly she can't breathe. "You know I…I mean….there's never been…I've always…god, I'm bollocksing this up, aren't I?"_

_She surprises both of them by starting to cry._

_"Hermione, I –" He reaches out and turns her to face him, but she still doesn't meet his gaze. He reaches out and lifts her chin in one hand and finally, she raises her eyes to his. He is looking at her as if she is both light and dark at the same time, and he can't figure out how she came to be here._

_"Look, I –" He swallows. "Screw it," and he is finally _finally _kissing her._

* * *

End of Part One


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So I lied. There will now be three parts. The third one will be posted soon.

**As It Always Would**

**Part Two**

"You're seeing someone?"

"Sort of seeing."

"How do you sort of see someone?"

Hermione shrugged and pulled a tome off the shelf. Flipping to the index, she scanned the list briefly before sighing and placing it back.

"We go out to dinner sometimes, we have sex sometimes, we floo sometimes, we even talk on the telephone sometimes. But not always."

"'Mione, that sounds like dating." Ron looked at the books around him. "Why are we in this section anyway? It's boring."

"I'm looking for something," she murmured distractedly as she looked through yet another volume. "And it's not dating. It's casual."

"Like Malfoy was casual?"

"Malfoy wasn't casual, he was a casualty. This is different."

Ron leaned against the shelf, looking at her expectantly. Feeling his gaze on her, Hermione turned.

"What?"

"You haven't told me who it is."

"I don't have to."

"I tell you who I'm seeing."

"Ron, you date a different girl every month. Forgive me if I don't pay much attention."

"Yeah, but you don't. So." He crossed his arms, a slight grin spreading. "Who's the sometimes boyfriend? Do I know him?"

"Probably."

"So..?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Why do you make it your business to know my business?"

"Cause you're my friend and Harry's boring. All he talks about is babies."

"Is he trying to get Ginny pregnant again?"

"You know Harry. If he had wanted to stop at one he wouldn't have married a Weasley."

"So if I'd have married you, I'd have seven kids right now?"

"It's likely," Ron said, waggling his eyebrows. "You wouldn't have been able to stay away."

"Hmm," she said, ignoring the comment and reaching for another book.

"What are you looking for anyway?" he asked, taking the book out of her hands. "_Societal Reflections through Magical and Muggle Means?_ Hermione, this is boring."

"No, it's not. But it's not what I'm looking for either," she said, removing the book from his hands and returning it to the shelf.

"What are you looking for?" he asked again.

Hermione looked above her at the top shelf."

"An article," she replied, straining to reach a book just out of reach. "It's about literature, and magic, and –"

"Look, just ask for help, why don't you?" Ron easily plucked the book down and handed it to her. "Did you bring me along so I could be your stepladder?"

"For your information, you were the one who decided to follow me to the library in the first place. And this article is important to me. I've been looking for it since we were in school."

"Seriously? And you haven't found it yet?"

She sighed.

"It's so weird. I look it up, and it's definitely out there somewhere, but I just can't get my hands on it. I read about it in a footnote in one text, and I've been looking for it ever since. _Perceptions of Something Rich and Strange: Magical and Phantasmagorical Wonders as Portrayed Through Muggle Literature. _I just can't find it. It's frustrating."

"Sounds boring."

"It sounds fascinating, Ronald, as you would know if you ever picked up a book."

He took one from the shelf and held it in front of her.

"See? Picked one up. Still sounds boring."

Hermione snatched the book from his hands and glared at him.

"If you're going to just make fun of it, why are you here?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"At me, Ron, not to me."

"So who's the guy?"

"What?"

"The guy. You said I probably knew him."

Hermione moved on to the next aisle, Ron trailing behind.

"Terry Boot."

"The Ravenclaw?"

"Do we still have to think in houses?"

Ron laughed.

"Course we do. I'm a Gryffindor for life, and so are you."

"Ron, what did you want to talk about?" Hermione asked, her patience reaching its end.

"Ah. Well, see…" The mirth left his voice. "You're not going to like it."

Hermione turned and looked at him, surprised by the change of tone.

"Like what? Oh Ron, you're not getting married too, are you? You can't leave me the only single one."

"You're not single. You're dating Boot."

"Terry, and we're only sort of dating. Don't change the subject."

Ron scuffed the ground with his shoe.

"I got a new assignment."

"Okay," Hermione said, waiting.

"It's a really good assignment. A great opportunity."

"That's good, Ron."

"Yeah, only, see…" He looked away. "It's sort of in Australia."

Hermione looked at him levelly.

"Australia," she repeated.

"Yeah."

"Sort of in Australia? How is it only sort of in Australia?"

"How are you only sort of dating?"

"Ron…"

"Fine. It's completely in Australia, just outside Melbourne."

"For how long, Ron?"

"Well…"

"Ron. How long?" A sinking feeling began to grown in her stomach.

"Three years."

There was silence as she stared at him. He smiled sheepishly.

"Three years?"

"Three years."

Hermione's quest for the book was forgotten as she tried to wrap her mind around this.

"But that's – that's so long."

"It's not as bad as all that, 'Mione. I'm still visiting on holidays, and I can always come back quickly for emergencies and things, I just won't really have time to, you know, hang out."

"Because you'll be in Australia."

"Hermione, this is a great opportunity for me."

Hermione swallowed.

"Well, then, I'm happy for you."

Ron let out a breath.

"Good. I thought you might be angry."

She shook her head, biting her lower lip.

"Why would I be angry? I mean, you said it's a wonderful opportunity, so…I mean, yes, of course I'm happy for you. It'll just be…weird, is all."

"I'll write."

"You never write."

"I'll write this time."

Hermione turned and started moving slowly through the aisle again.

"When do you leave?" she asked, her voice calm.

"That's the good news. I still don't leave for another month, so I have time to get things in order."

"Good." Hermione wondered at the lightness in her arms.

"You'll come visit me, right?"

There was such worry in his voice that Hermione had to turn and smile at him.

"Of course I will, Ron. Of course I will."

_

* * *

_

The first time they have sex (make love, she thinks, but shies away because it's such a sentimental phrase), neither of them are virgins. In the interim between when she kisses him during the Final Battle and when he kisses her outside the Burrow ten months later, she gets fed up waiting. As she lets Seamus seduce her one night (because she'd never do the seducing herself), she thinks of Ron, wonders if he'll find out about it, wonders if he'll care. It is painful and awkward, and when Ron finds out about it, he punches a wall. This is what Harry tells her, but Ron never mentions it.

_He lost it to Lavender their sixth year, and when Hermione finds out about that, she declares that all men are pigs and doesn't talk to Ron for a week, though he doesn't know why._

_Then, when they begin, when Ron and Hermione finally, finally become RonandHermione, she mourns the fact that neither of them has that gift to give the other. She always had imagined their first time together as __**the**__first time, the two of them grasping each other in the thrill of discovery, sweaty and breathless and terrified._

_After they finally do have sex, they lay back, still holding onto each other, sweaty and breathless and exhilarated. The one thought that crosses Hermione's nearly blank mind is that she should send Lavender a thank you card. _

* * *

Hermione sat distracted all through Ron's farewell dinner. She tried to focus, but found herself unable.

"You better fucking visit all the time," a drunken Harry said as he draped an arm over Ron's shoulders. "You're leaving me with all the women!"

"I think you can handle it," a slightly more sober Ron replied. He grinned over at Hermione. "You're girly enough, mate."

"And you're a git." Harry tried to drink from his glass, only to be surprised when he found there was nothing left in it. "Someone drank all my margarita," he mumbled, shuffling off to the kitchen to get a refill.

Ginny sighed and stood up.

"I should probably go after him and make sure he doesn't accidentally die on the way there." She hurried to catch up to her staggering husband.

Ron looked at Hermione, a slight crease forming in his brow.

"You okay?"

She glanced up sharply.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm just…just things on my mind. Work, and all."

"I see." The look he gave her said he wasn't buying it. "How's Boot?"

Hermione flinched.

"I don't know, we stopped seeing each other a couple weeks ago."

"Stopped sort of seeing each other?"

"Yes, Ron. We stopped sort of seeing each other." Hermione took in a deep breath and stood. "Look, I actually should probably run back to the office, I need to finish something by tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Ron, said, starting to stand up. "You sure you're okay?"

Hermione started to form a reply, but couldn't.

"I –" She nodded. "I'll be fine. We're still meeting to see you off in the morning, right?'

"Well, if Harry isn't too hungover."

She smiled.

"I'm sure he'll be there." She leaned over to kiss Ron on the cheek. "See you in the morning." With that she left, Ron still looking after her.

_Fuck_, she thought, and apparated to the nearest all-night chemist.

* * *

"_You want to live together?"_

_Hermione looks up from her work. _

"_What?" she asks._

_Ron sits down across from her. _

_"Live together. You and me." At her silence, he continues. "I mean, it makes sense. Now Harry and Ginny are married, neither of us have roommates, so it would be easy, and we could live in your apartment, cause it's nicer, or mine, if you want, I mean, whatever you want, and besides." The redhead blushes. "I want to live with you."_

_Hermione stares at him, not sure what to say._

_"So, um, what do you think? You don't have to answer now if you don't want, no pressure, either way, it just…I thought it might be nice."_

_She looks at the man she loves, still blushing furiously, obviously nervous, and she falls just a little bit further._

_"Okay," she finally says._

_"Okay?"_

_"Okay."_

_They grin at each other._

* * *

There was a knock on her office door.

"What," Hermione said, not lifting her head from her hands.

"I forgot to give you something."

At Ron's voice, she looked up. Seeing her red and puffy eyes, he started forward.

"Okay, you can't tell me nothing's wrong anymore." Ron came around the side of her desk, kneeled by her chair, and placed one large hand on her shoulder. "Hermione."

She shook her head, trying not to cry.

"Hermione, it's only a few years. It'll be over before you know it."

"No, that's not it," she blubbered. "I mean, yes, that's part of it, but that's not why I'm upset."

"What is it?" Ron dug in his pocket to pull out a wrinkled tissue, which he used to carefully dab her tears. "'Mione, you know you can tell me anything."

"I'm not pregnant."

"What?"

Hermione laughed a little at his confusion.

"I thought I might be pregnant, that's why I was so off tonight, cause I just realized I might be pregnant, but I just took a test and I'm not, I'm not pregnant." She started to cry in earnest.

"I –" Ron swallowed. "I don't understand. Did you want to be?"

She shook her head vehemently.

"No! I didn't want to be and I'm not and I don't know why I'm crying!" She turned into him and sobbed onto his shoulder. The redhead held her gently.

"Okay," he said, clearly still unsure. "Are you going to be alright?"

She nodded into his shoulder.

"Cause I can delay leaving, if you need me to stay."

Hermione pulled back, sniffling.

"No, no, I'll be fine, I'm just being silly, is all."

"You're not being silly."

She laughed.

"Yes, I am. I'm being silly."

"Okay, maybe a little." He smiled gently. "You'll be alright."

Hermione took in a deep breath.

"Yeah, I know. I know." She sat up straight and blinked, trying to clear her head. "Why did you say you came by again?"

"Oh, I forgot to bring you something." He held out a large manila envelope she hadn't noticed before. "Just a little thing. No big deal."

She took it from him, smiling.

"Mind if I look at it tomorrow? I'm a little strange right now, if you hadn't noticed."

"Sure, whenever you like."

Hermione placed the envelope in one of her desk drawers and turned back to him.

"Thanks for coming by."

"No problem." Ron stroked her cheek lightly with one hand. Hermione became acutely aware that he still had an arm draped around her.

"Ron," she began, but his thumb trailed down to stop at her lips.

"Hermione," his voice was low. Her heart thumped in her throat as he started leaning forward. Just as his mouth was about to meet hers, she pulled back.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a voice that was too fluttery to be hers.

"'Mione, you have to know."

"Know what?" She pushed out of her chair and crossed to the other side of the room, her back turned to him. Her breath came short and she heard him stand behind her.

"You can't not know." His voice was strained, almost pleading.

"Ron…"

"All these years, I've still, I've always –"

"No, Ron, no…"

"I was so crazy when you were with Malfoy, when you were with Boot. You couldn't tell?"

Hermione reached a hand out to grip one of her bookcases. She refused to turn.

"You were dating other people, you were always dating other people."

"I was trying, 'Mione! You broke my heart, I was trying to get over you!"

She shook her head, trying to control the reeling in her chest.

"This can't be happening, this can't be happening…"

"Hermione, I'm in love with you, I've always been in love with you, I can't – I can't pretend anymore that I'm not, because every time I see you…something stops inside me, 'Mione, something _stops_, and there's just you and I can't – look at me, Hermione. Look at me!"

Reluctantly she turned to face her best friend. There was something in his eyes she'd never seen before. Not once in all the years of their friendship, not once in their entire relationship had he looked at her the way he was looking now.

"Hermione," he began, and there was such pain in his voice she wanted to cry again. "Say one word and I'll stay, I won't leave tomorrow. One word. 'Mione. You have to love me too, you know you do , you have to."

"I-," she drew in a shaky breath. "Ron, you – you know I love you, but – "

Ron looked as if she'd slapped him. He took a step back.

"But," he finally choked out.

"I'm not in love with you Ron," she whispered, and her heart shattered as she watched his face turn to stone.

"Alright," he finally said, his voice blank. "I just wanted you to know before I left." He seemed to falter briefly, almost starting to move towards her, but instead he turned and left her alone in her dark office.

Hermione sank to the floor by her bookcases, hot tears running down her face.

* * *

"_I'm crazy about you, you know," Ron says as he smudges a line of paint down her cheek._

"_Ron, that's supposed to go on the walls, not my face," she laughs as she tries to dodge out of his reach._

"_I know. You just look cute like that. It's like war paint."_

"_War paint, eh?"She reaches down into the paint bucket, drawing out an entire hand covered in eggshell white. "So you want a battle, do you?" She lunges for him, trying to spread the paint on his face, but he grabs her arm before she can reach him. A brief wrestling match ensues, ending with her on her back, him on top of her, paint splattered around them._

_She leans up to kiss him and quickly draws back._

"_You have paint on your mouth."_

_He drags a thumb on her lips in the gesture that always makes her shiver._

"_Now so do you."_

_His other hand is inching up her side, under her shirt, and Hermione lays her head back, closing her eyes. _

Paint be damned_, she thinks, and quakes under Ron's touch. _

* * *

Hermione pulled her coat tighter around herself as a particularly cold wind blew past Stoat's Head Hill. She looked down at the small, dented sardine tin laying near her feet – the first of many portkeys that would take Ron to Australia.

"He's late," she said finally, her voice almost lost in the wind.

"Don't shout," Harry croaked from where he sat, cradling his head in his arms. Ginny snorted.

"I'm so lucky to be married to the boy-who-can't-hold-his-liquor." She shifted baby James on her hip. "You going to complain all day?"

A small groan was all the response she got. The witch grinned and turned to Hermione.

"You look nearly as bad off of as him, Hermione. I didn't think you drank that much last night."

"I didn't," the other woman quickly replied. "I had trouble sleeping."

"Me too," Ginny admitted, settling herself down beside her husband, who appreciatively leaned against her. James laughed and started pulling his father's hair. "It's going to be weird without Ron. Charlie's sort of always been gone, and even Fred – Ron's the brother who was always around." She looked up at the brunette. "It'll be worse for you, I bet. You and Ron were together all the time."

"Hmm," Hermione murmured noncommittally and glanced away from the direction of the Burrow. Why was it so cold out here?

"Here they come," Ginny said a moment later, clambering to her feet. "Come on, you big baby, up." She nudged Harry. "I'm referring to you."

Reluctantly, Harry let his wife drag him up. Blinking his bleary eyes, he yawned.

"Next time Ron leaves the country, he's doing it at a reasonable hour."

"It's 10 am."

"Exactly."

Hermione held herself together tightly as three redheads came into view. She found herself looking at Molly and Arthur with acute attention, more than she had paid them in years, all to avoid looking at the tall young man walking with them.

They had run late, so there was little time to say goodbyes. Ron embraced his fussing parents, kissed his sister on the cheek, punched Harry in the arm before the shorter man pulled him into a rough hug, and swung little James in the air until his squealed with delight. Hermione's heart thumped.

Finally, he turned to her, and she could see the tension in his face as they move into an obligatory hug. It felt strained, and Hermione wondered that the others didn't seem to notice something was wrong. The air between them was practically static.

He pulled back, looked her squarely in the face, and nodded. She tried to smile in response, but her face was too stiff.

"In just a minute, Ron," Arthur said behind them. Ron stepped towards the sardine can, raising a hand in farewell before preparing to bend to the ground to touch it. Hermione suddenly found she couldn't bear it anymore.

"Wait," she said, and ran forward and flung herself into Ron's arms, burying her face in his chest. His arms closed around her automatically.

"I do love you, you know," she said, muffled against him.

His embrace tightened.

"I know." Ron kissed the top of her head and released her. Was it just the cold, or were his eyes misty?

"Ron," his father said warningly, and the young man had to reach out quickly to the glowing portkey. In a small compression of air, he was gone.

Everyone else started down the hill, but Hermione stared where she was, holding her coat tighter around herself.

* * *

"_D'you know when I fell in love with you?"_

_Hermione lazily drags her finger across Ron's bare chest. This is why Sunday's are her favorite days – this, right here. Lying in bed late, the muggy tone Ron's voice takes when he sleepily declares his affection._

"_When?"_

"_Fourth Year, after Harry's first task? You went all mental and hugged us and ran away crying."_

"_When you and Harry made up, yeah."_

"_Yeah." His hand rubs small circles in the small of her back. "I thought you were barking mad."_

"_And you fell in love with me?"_

"_I fell in love with you, right there. Don't know why."_

"_See, I loved you for a while before that."_

_He props himself up on his elbow._

"_Really?"_

_She nods, a blush starting to creep on her cheeks._

"_The Shrieking Shack."_

"_Be specific."_

"_Your face when you saw Wormtail."_

"_That was when you fell in love with me?"_

_She nods and nestles into his chest._

"_That's messed up."_

"_No, it was so right at the moment. You just looked so hurt, and I thought, I don't ever want him to look like that again, because I love him."_

"_You thought that."_

"_Strange, I know. But it just popped into my mind. Rest of the night, going back in time, almost getting killed, part of my mind was just thinking, Hello, I'm in love with Ron Weasley."_

_He turns her face to his and captures her lips in a slow, melting kiss._

"_I was right, you know," he whispers when they finally part. "You're absolutely mental." _

End of Part Two


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: The final part. I hope you enjoy.

**As It Always Would**

**Part Three**

"Got an owl from Ron today."

Hermione looked up from her lunch.

"Really? How is he?"

Harry picked a piece of raggedy lettuce out of his sandwich. Frowning at it, he shrugged.

"Good, normal, I think. Getting into the groove of things."

"That's good, good," Hermione took a long drink of water to hide the discomfort she seemed to always feel when Ron was mentioned.

"Got a girlfriend already, of course."

"Of course," Hermione cleared her throat a little. "Well, thanks for lunch, Harry, but I've got to get back to work."

"Yeah, no problem." He helped her gather up their trash and walked with her to the wastepaper basket. "You having lunch at the Burrow on Sunday?"

She shook her head.

"Probably not. I've got this big case, and we're so far behind..."

Harry glanced at her.

"You should come. It's strange enough without Ron, not having you would just be bizarre."

Hermione forced a small laugh.

"True. I'll try to come, I guess."

She started walking away, but Harry's hand on her arm stopped her. Her friend looked at her levelly.

"Are you doing okay, Hermione?"

"Yeah." At his disbelieving look, she smiled to make her point. "I'm doing fine, Harry. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Okay, I just wanted to check."

Hermione leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"You're sweet. I'll maybe see you Sunday, okay?"

"Definitely see me," Harry called after her as she walked away.

Hermione closed her door as soon as she reached her office and leaned against it. She was doing fine, but that didn't change the fact that when someone said Ron's name, she tensed, or that when she spoke about him, she was always acutely aware of doing so.

The brunette sighed and made her way over to her desk. This would take some getting used to.

A knock came at her door, cutting off her train of thought.

"Come in," Hermione said as she settled herself into her chair.

Lisa, her assistant, poked in her head.

"An Oliver Wood to see you?"

Hermione frowned.

"Do you know him?" Lisa asked.

"Yeah, um, I was at Hogwarts with him, I'm just...I have no idea why he'd want to see me."

Lisa shrugged.

"Should I send him in?"

"Sure. I'm curious now."

Lisa disappeared and soon Oliver entered. He looked much as she had remembered him from Hogwarts, just older and, she couldn't help but notice, even handsomer.

"Oliver, hi," she said, extending her hand.

He shook it, looking at her with genuine warmth.

"Hermione Granger. I haven't seen you since you were what – fourth year? Fifth?"

"Um, the Quidditch World Cup I think? Ireland and Bulgaria."

"Wonderful game. You a Quidditch fan?"

She smiled and shook her head.

"You'd think being friends with both Harry and Ron," (she felt herself say his name) "that I would be, but it never really rubbed off, I'm afraid."

"Ah, well." Oliver didn't seem very disturbed by this news and smiled back.

There was a brief pause before Hermione remembered herself.

"I'm sorry, sit down, please. Now, what did you want to see me about?"

Hermione marveled by how quickly Oliver's demeanor changed from friendly to professional.

"Yes, well, it's a bit of a sensitive subject. Perfect for your department, I thought."

The witch leaned forward, interested, as Oliver continued.

"See, there's a chaser on my team – sorry, I coach Puddlemere United, should have mentioned that first – and there's this chaser, Johnathan. Amazing player, really energetic, accurate, takes risks."

"Hm hm," Hermione nodded, not sure where this was going.

Oliver took a deep breath.

"It just recently came to light – by which I mean Jonathan confided in a fellow chaser and that chaser leaked it to the press – that Jonathan is, well, that he's a werewolf."

"Oh." Hermione sat alert, her mind instantly racing ahead through the situation. "And the other chaser wants him off the team."

"Well, he hasn't officially said as much, but it's been heavily implied. There seems to be a bit of a jealousy issue there, to be honest."

"It's strange that I haven't heard of this yet," Hermione mused. "Usually my staff is looking for this sort of thing."  
"It hasn't been released yet. The reporter came to me this morning and told me he was breaking the story later today, wanted to give me a bit of a heads up. Anyway, this whole thing is about to explode, and you just know that several groups are going to be clamoring for Jonathan's head."

"While others try to make him into a cause."

"Exactly. I just want to keep my team intact and to protect the man. He's a good person."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded, thinking.

"Can you arrange a meeting for me with Jonathan? His lawyer should be present, of course, and you can attend, if he's willing."

Oliver nodded, relief on his face.

"Yes. Absolutely. Thank you so much for looking at this, Hermione, it's...it'll be a wonderful help."

"Well, I'll see what I can do. Talk to my assistant, she'll get that meeting scheduled."

They stood up and Hermione shook Oliver's proffered hand.

"It's really wonderful what you're doing with your life, Hermione," he said, that warm smile back on his face.

Hermione couldn't help but smile back before she realized they were still holding hands. Awkwardly, she released her hold.

"Yes, well. Thank you."

Oliver left her office, glancing back once at the door. Hermione watched him go, a small fluttering beginning in her chest.

* * *

_"I don't see what the issue is, 'Mione," Ron says, following her as she storms into the bedroom._

_"The issue, Ronald," she begins, still furious as she crosses to her wardrobe and starts rummaging through her dresses, "is that you promised you'd be with me tonight! You knew I didn't want to go to this, you knew I had to , and you said three weeks ago that you'd go with me! And now __you're backing out because Harry got some bloody Quidditch tickets?!" Hermione grabs a black cocktail dress and throws it on the bed, snatching some heels and tossing them to join the dress._

_"They're not just Quidditch tickets, 'Mione, it's the Chudley Cannons! Their first shot to get the England championship in three hundred years, three hundred years, and Harry got tickets. You know how much this means to me."_

_"And I thought you knew how much your support meant to me!"_

_Ron leans against the door jamb, watching her change as fast as she can. He runs his hand through his hair._

_"Of course I support you. That's not what this is about."_

_"No, it's not," Hermione snaps. "This is about you being unwilling to let go of a childish obsession. You're an auror, Ron, and that's incredible, so stop pining about and wishing you can play professional Quidditch!"_

_"You think that what's going on? God, 'Mione, I - can't anyone have interests, or, or like something that's maybe not reserved for people with immense IQs? Just because you can't have fun or relax, you think that if someone likes anything it's some...psychological problem. Loosen the fuck up!"_

_She stops her quick change to stare at him disbelieving. She can tell he instantly regrets his remark._

_"Love, I didn't mean it like that," he says, moving towards her. She evades his embrace._

_"So what, you think I'm just this uptight prude, is that it?"_

_"You know I don't think that, not at all," Ron tries again to reach to her, but again, she dodges his grasp._

_"I have to get ready," she says, and her tone brooks no further argument. Ron waits, but there is only silence._

_"I'm sorry," he whispers as he leaves the room. Hermione doesn't respond._

* * *

He looked good, Hermione thought, watching him from across the room. Australia was good to him. He looked older, somehow. More sure of himself.

"A toast, everybody!" She looked over to where Arthur Weasley stood in the center of the room, glass raised. "To a very Merry Christmas, and to having the family back together again." He smiled in Ron's direction. Hermione glanced over automatically towards George, as she had for the past seven Christmases, but even he looked happy and relaxed.

"Merry Christmas," everyone repeated after him, and drank from their glasses.

"He looks good, no?" A soft French voice said beside her. Hermione jumped.

"Sorry, what?" Hermione turned to look at Fleur.

"Ron." The stunning blond gestured over to where Ron stood with Harry and Ginny, laughing. "Australia, eet has been good for 'im, yes?"

"Oh. Oh, yes, I guess. Excuse me," Hermione murmured and moved away from the French woman, who was looking at her with a knowing look Hermione didn't particularly like.

Harry caught her eye and motioned her over to join them. With a reluctance she was surprised to feel, she moved over to the fire where they stood.

Ron's smile slipped a little as she approached, a fact she noted instantly. Wonderful, she thought. She had officially lost one of her best friends. Of course, she had surmised that when he had only written a few terse notes during the nine months he had been gone, but the confirmation hurt nonetheless.

"Ron just told us this ridiculous story about a...what was it called again?" Ginny asked her brother.

"A dingo," he supplied.

"It's really wonderful, Hermione, you should make him tell you. Harry?" The younger woman looked up at her husband. "We should really go check on James. I think all this noise might have woken him up."

"Whatever you say, love," Harry said gallantly, letting himself be led away by his wife, who gave Hermione a very significant look as she passed, the type of look that made Hermione remind herself to kill the redheaded witch as soon as possible.

Ron and Hermione stood in awkward silence for a few moments, glancing back and forth between their drinks and the fire. Finally, Hermione began "I'm sorry I - ," just as Ron started "I meant to - ." They looked each other and laughed slightly.

"Go ahead," Hermione said.

"No, it's okay, you, you go."

Hermione swallowed a little.

"I – I was just going to say that, um, I'm sorry I didn't keep in good touch, I've been really busy lately, things, the office is just been crazy..."

"Yeah, Harry told me. And it's okay, I mean, I was going to say I meant to...I didn't keep in good touch either, it's – it's not your fault."

"Good to know," Hermione tried to joke, and took a long drink from her glass. "So," she began again. "You're enjoying Australia?"

Ron nodded.

"It's really wonderful. My assignment's challenging, my team's great, it's, it's good."

"That's good," Hermione said, nodding and wondering why she seemed to have lost her entire vocabulary.

"Harry tells me you're seeing Oliver Wood?" Ron's voice was casual, but Hermione still flinched, startled by the question.

"Um, yeah, well, I helped him out with a case about seven months back, and we, yeah, we started seeing each other."

"Oliver's a good man."

"Yes, he is. Harry said you're still with...sorry, I forgot what he said your girlfriend's name is."

"Lydia, and yes, yes, we're still together. Moving in together after Christmas, actually."

"Oh! Oh, that's, that's great."

There was another long pause.

"I should go talk to George," Ron finally said. "Make sure he's, you know."

"Good idea. Good catching up."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and smiled weakly, walking away.

Hermione drained the rest of her glass. As soon as was politely possible, she was going to leave the Burrow. Oliver was with his family, so, she decided, the only good plan was to get absolutely roaring drunk and try to wipe that most awkward of encounters out of her memory.

* * *

_"So, when are you and Ron getting married?"_

_Hermione tries not to choke and her tea. Coughing, she stares at Molly Weasley._

_"Sorry?"_

_"You and Ron. Are you engaged yet?" Molly smiles beatifically at the young witch and sips from her cup. Hermione blinks, trying to recover some semblance of composure._

_"Oh, well, um, Molly, we haven't really talked about it, to be honest."_

_"Really? I would think, with Harry and Ginny married, you two would be getting engaged anytime now. It's been what, three and a half years?"_

_"Three years, five months," Hermione replies automatically. "Molly, I – I don't think Ron or I, I don't think either of us is really at that stage yet. I mean, we're only twenty-one."_

_"Harry and Ginny - "_

_"With all due respect, Molly, we're not Harry and Ginny. We're just...different."_

_"Hm," is all Molly replies, but Hermione sees the frown on her face and knows that she's just __stumbled into a different world entirely._

* * *

"A year and a half," Ginny said, dropping a box to empathize her point with a bang.

"Ginny, be glad those were books, and nothing fragile," Hermione said, glaring at her friend as she shifted the box she was carrying to her left hip. "Can you move the lamp to that other corner?"

"A year and a half," the redhead repeated.

"Ginny, I'm a witch, not a psychic. A year and a half what?" She set the box down upon the table and started to open it.

Ginny picked up the lamp, glaring at the other woman.

"Ron's been gone a year and a half and you've only talked _once_? At _Christmas?_"

"Where did this come from?" Hermione asked, beginning to sort through the objects in front of her.

"When Harry and I visited him, you came up. You know, because we're all friends. Or so I thought until I asked him what he thought about you and Oliver moving in together, and he said, I had no idea they were, she never told me, and I said, huh, that's funny, seeing as how you're _best friends._ And then it turns out that you haven't spoken in who knows how long, and my husband is just sitting there looking guilty, and no one chose to inform me that you two are no longer friends!" Ginny's voice rose steadily throughout her diatribe so that she was practically yelling.

Hermione stared at the box in front of her.

"Frankly," she said, her voice cool. "I didn't think it was any of your business."

"None of my business? Hermione, this is my best friend and my brother. Screw that, this is _you _ and _Ron_! It's not like you suddenly stopped talking to...I don't know...Neville, or something, this is Ron!" The younger woman gazed at her friend in disbelief. "Hermione, what the hell happened? What's going on?"

"Nothing is," the brunette replied, carefully unwrapping a small incense burner. "And it hasn't been only once, we wrote a couple times."

"Bullshit nothing's going on. You two were messed up the day he left, I saw you guys at Christmas, if you're not with Oliver, you're gloomy as hell, he's been with the same girl for months, months, and this is Ron mind you, not exactly the most committed guy, and you two don't talk to each other, you don't talk about each other." Ginny sighed. "I'm not an idiot. What's going on?"

Hermione brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, avoiding Ginny's gaze.

"The night he left? I, I went to my office early, I was upset about something, he came and found me." She took a shaky breath and looked directly at her friend. "He tried to kiss me, he told me he was in love with me, he told me he had never stopped loving me, he said...I don't even remember all he said, but I basically said...no, no I didn't love him back, not like that, and, and it was awful, Ginny, it was awful."

Ginny's mouth had opened slightly as she stared at Hermione with wide eyes.

"Oh, 'Mione," she finally said. "I...I wondered, but...I'm so sorry."

Hermione shook her head, trying to clear the sudden fuzziness.

"It's okay. Well, no," she backtracked. "It's not okay, because everything between us is just...ruined, really. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him." She blinked hard to prevent the sudden tears in her eyes.

In a second, the redhead was by her side, letting Hermione rest her head on her shoulder as she struggled to regain composure.

"It'll be fine," Ginny said reassuringly. "You guys have too much history to throw away."

Hermione gave a short, bitter laugh.

"I think the history is what got us in this trouble."

The two women stood in silence for a moment. After a while, Ginny pulled back.

"Hermione..." she began haltingly. "I actually had something to tell you about Ron today. I don't know if this is the best time, but..."

"What?" The brunette asked, feeling suddenly that whatever Ginny was about to say was vitally important.

"Ron's engaged."

Hermione blinked.

"Okay," she said after a while. "That was unexpected."

"Are you alright?" Ginny watched her with a tremulous look.

Hermione paused to consider.

"I think. I guess. Just, didn't expect that." She laughed deprecatingly. "What, did I think he was going to be in love with me the rest of his life? He needs to move on. It's good he's doing it. It's just...no, it's good."

She could tell that there was still some doubt in Ginny's face, but at that moment, Hermione loved her friend for accepting her answer.

"Alright," the redhead said. "It'll be a long engagement, I think. Probably won't last."

Hermione shrugged.

"Maybe we'll be talking by the wedding then, who knows?"

* * *

_"You've got to stop shutting me out."_

_Hermione stares blankly at Ron._

_"I'm not shutting you out."_

_"Yes, yes you are."_

_"Since when have I - "_

_"You've been weird lately. You've been distant. We don't have as much sex. 'Mione." Ron's voice is surprisingly calm. "What's happening?"_

_"Nothing, nothing," she says, reaching out a hand to brush his hair from his forehead. "I'm not trying to shut you out."_

_He catches her hand with his. _

_"I'm not leaving, if that's what you're afraid of." _

_She looks at him, knowing that he has no idea what's going through her head._

_"That's not what I'm afraid of," she says, and kisses him before he can reply._

* * *

Oliver's hand in the small of her back was comforting as they stood in the backyard of the Burrow. She could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, something that always reassured her.

"You're quiet," he murmured in her ear, and she shivered as his breath ghosted over her neck.

"I'm tired," she replied, shifting her head slightly so that their faces are almost touching. "Not really in a party mood, I suppose."

"We can leave, if you'd like."

Hermione shook her head.

"Molly would kill me. We have to stay a little longer, at least."

"As long as you're okay." His fingers rubbed small patterns against her back and she sighed, leaning her head against his chest.

To be honest, engagement parties always wore her out. They always evoked the wide gamut of emotions she had felt at Harry and Ginny's years ago, and the fact that this was the part of her ex, both boyfriend and friend, made it a bit more exhausting that most.

She looked over at Harry and Ginny, entwined on the dance floor, oblivious to anything but each other. Ginny was practically glowing, Harry looking equally ecstatic. They had confided in her earlier that week that they had just discovered Ginny was pregnant again, a girl, they hoped. Hermione smiled as she watched her friends, a smile that faded slightly as Ron and his pretty fiancée danced into view.

"I'm going to get some water, okay?" She said to Oliver. "You should go talk to George and Angelina, you guys haven't caught up in a while, and they've been trying to catch your eye."

Oliver kissed her gently before walking to join his friends. Hermione softened as she watched he and George exchange friendly punches. She made her way over to the buffet table, quietly demurring whenever someone tried to grab her attention.

The water was cool and refreshing, and went a long way to alleviating some of the headache that had been building all evening. Maybe she should eat something. She'd been working such long hours lately, she hadn't really been taking care of herself.

"What you think, am I going to have to kill Harry when he and my sister jump each other on the dance floor?"

Hermione jumped, spilling some water down her front.

"Oh, shit, sorry, I didn't mean - " Ron scrambled for a napkin to hand to her.

"It's okay, you just startled me." She accepted the cloth he held out and dabbed at her dress. She glanced over at the Potters. "Probably. I give it about five minutes."

"That's what I thought." Ron and Hermione looked at each other. He shifted and stuck his hands in his pockets. The gesture suddenly made him look fifteen again, and Hermione couldn't help but smile fondly at the memory. "You look good," he said, breaking her reverie.

She blushed slightly. "You too. Lydia's very nice."

"Yeah, she is, isn't she?" Ron glanced at where his fiancée stood chatting with Fleur. "Look, Hermione." He paused and frowned, obviously struggling with trying to say something. "Want to dance?" He finally blurted out.

The request caught Hermione off guard so much that she let out a surprised laugh.

"Okay," she replied. "Sure. I'd like that."

They grinned at each other as they moved to the dance floor. The tension that had previously been palpable between them had melted away, and she had no idea why.

She moved into Ron's arms naturally and they danced for a while in companionable silence. Hermione closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the feeling of being around her friend once more.

"I missed you." The words came out of her mouth without thinking. "It's been so strange, not - "

"Not talking?"

She looked up to meet Ron's eyes. He smiled down at her gently, but there was a slight sadness lurking in his face.

"I've missed you too," he said.

Hermione couldn't move her eyes from his, wondering at the lump developing in her throat.

"Can we – can we be like we were?" Said out loud, it sounded more like a plea than anything, and Hermione would have cursed herself if she hadn't been so absorbed in the moment.

Ron tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering briefly on her cheek.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm sorry we didn't talk. I just needed to figure some things out."

"I didn't ever want to hurt you," Hermione whispered, and Ron's hand on her hip briefly tightened its grip.

"I know," he said after a moment. "I didn't want to either."

The song came to an end. They separated and clapped politely as the band announced it was taking a brief break. Couples began drifting off the dance floor as Hermione and Ron stood in silence.

"So, wedding's in a year, is it?" She was surprised by how easy it was to segue back into normality.

Ron nodded.

"When my assignment ends. Lydia and I'll come back here for the wedding. We're not sure where we'll go after that, but somewhere in England, that's for sure."

"Done with the dingoes?"

He laughed. Hermione had forgotten how much she loved the sound of his laugh.

"Done with the dingoes, the dust, the dryness, you name it. You don't know how much I long for it to just rain for a week straight, like the kind we had back at Hogwarts, remember? With the mist and the fog...I'm ready for that again."

"I remember." They looked at each other until she heard someone call her name.

"Hermione?"

She glanced over to see Oliver walking towards them.

"That's where you went. Are you feeling better?"

She moved closer to Oliver, noting how Ron stepped back when the Scottish man approached.

"A bit. Do you mind leaving now, though?"

Oliver shook his head, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. Hermione turned back to Ron.

"It was good talking to you." Inadequate words, she felt, but all she could think of to say. "Write me this time, okay?"

Ron nodded.

"I promise."

Hermione hesitated briefly, then leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. His skin was warm beneath her lips. Pulling back, she managed a smile before she moved back to Oliver and they walked away.

* * *

_Hermione shakes with sobs as she wraps her arms tightly around herself. This is not how it is supposed to go. This is not how she is supposed to feel._

_The conversation keeps coming up, and she can't avoid it anywhere she turns. They're so young, why does everyone expect them to get married? Ron – Ron won't say anything about it, but it's the unmentioned subject between them, the one they both keep tripping on like a worn hole in a carpet._

_She doesn't know why being with him is suddenly so hard, but every time someone says the word 'forever,' something explodes in her chest and she has to struggle to breathe. _

* * *

Oliver proposed to her a month after Ron's engagement party while they were cleaning out his parent's attic.

"I was talking to my mum this morning," he said blithely as he picked up an ugly ceramic statue of a fairy. He scowled at the gleeful face of the fairy as he set it down in the "Throw Away" pile. "She told me she reckoned we should get married." He cleared his throat slightly. "And I agreed."

Hermione wondered why she was so calm, why her stomach was doing none of the flippy stuff Ginny had described so giddily. She looked up from the box of Christmas ornaments she was sorting.

"Really," she said mildly.

Oliver's voice came back to her slightly muffled, as he had bent his tall frame into a large and extraordinarily dusty box.

"Well, she pointed out that we'd been together a few years, living together for a while, and you know, you're the kind of girl I would marry." He sneezed loudly.

Hermione picked up a cherub ornament that was grinning nearly as obnoxiously as the fairy and tried to figure out why she was on the receiving end of the most unromantic proposal in Wizarding history.

"I need some time to think about it," she said just as mildly, stomach calm.

He turned and smiled up at her, dust smeared on his cheek.

"I love you, you know."

"I know."

* * *

_"I'm breaking up with him."_

_"You're breaking up with him?"_

_"I'm breaking up with him." Hermione knocks back another shot, ignoring Ginny's gaping stare._

_"You're breaking up with Ron."_

_"That's what I said. Another, please."_

_Ginny takes a shot of her own, wincing as the alcohol slides down her throat, before pouring more vodka for the both of them. _

_"Well, fuck." _

_Hermione nods._

_"Well fuck is right."_

* * *

Hermione went to her office that night, flicked on a few lights and set her purse down on the table by the door. She sat at her desk, elbows propped against the surface, chin in her hands, and used her feet to swing the chair back and forth.

Her eyes drifted to the corner of the bookcases lining the walls, and a smile crept on her face as she remembered the day Ron and Harry helped her move in. Harry had tried to put the books on the shelf, but Ron had stood behind him and hexed him so that every book fell back down onto his head. Hermione had laughed silently at her desk as she watched Harry's face grow redder and redder before he realized what was going on. Ron had caught her eye and winked that wink that always made her angry and dizzy at the same time.

The brunette stopped the movement of her feet. Oliver's question finally hit the bottom of her mind.

"Shit," she murmured, because it was the only thing she could think of to say.

Oliver had asked her a question (though "asked" might be a generous word), and he expected an answer. There was no answer inside her. No answer. That was it. Hermione stood up slowly and prepared to walk home, alone, without an answer, without anything to tell the man waiting for her.

But no. She was Hermione Granger, and because she was Hermione Granger, she always had an answer, so she turned back and started rummaging through the papers on her desk, the drawers, first slowly and then frantically, as if somewhere buried there would be the response she needed to find.

And her fingers brushed the long forgotten envelope from Ron.

Immediately she stopped, her body rigid. Slowly, so slowly, she eased the envelope out and opened it with a deliberateness that surprised even her.

Two things fell out: a thick, multi-paged document of some kind, official looking, and a folded piece of paper, slightly stiff with age. Her hand stretched to the smaller item and she unfolded it, sinking gently back down into her desk chair, still moving in that slow, strange deliberate way.

Ron's messy handwriting stared back at her.

_Sorry I'm abandoning you to deal with Harry on your own…hope this makes up for it. You said you've been wanting it, and I knew this guy in the States who knows about that sort of thing, so I mentioned it to him and…well, there you go. Three years isn't that long. Does saying that make it true? Let's try again. Three years isn't that long._

_Love,_

_Ron_

Hermione picked up the document and felt something stop inside her chest.

**Perceptions of Something Rich and Strange: Magical and Phantasmagorical Wonders as Portrayed Through Muggle Literature.**

_"You'll be useless when you finally get your hands on it," he said once, grinning at her._

_"Why do you say that?"_

_"Are you kidding? First you'll read it, no matter where you are, your own wedding even, then you'll re-read it, mark it up, read it a third time, research all the references and sources, and start composing your own fifty page reply." He'd ruffled her hair in that way she refused to admit she liked. "You'll be out for weeks."_

Her eyes closed on their own and she clutched the article tight in her hands. She'd read it first thing, he had said, but she couldn't bring herself to look at the words in front of her. Instead she had to concentrate on breathing, because right now, she was so in love with Ron she was going to choke with it.

His face when he left. That wink from the corner. His sloppy handwriting. Messing her hair. Holding her, tickling her, teasing her. The way his eyes danced. His lopsided smile. The stunned look after she kissed him. The feel of his lips that first time. The feel of them the second time, outside the Burrow. The sun on her face when he said he loved her. His hand tightening on her hip. His hands on her body, his eyes on her face, his breath with hers, his freckles, his stride, his laugh. Him. Ron. Ron. _Ron._

Hermione opened her eyes. She loosened her death grip on the precious article and set in gently on top of her desk.

He no longer loved her, not in the way she had just realized she still loved him. But if she was right about one thing (and she was right about many things), it was that there was no other man for her in this world than him.

She'd wait for him. She'd waited once before and she could wait again. Because there was nothing else but each other. Because she was Hermione and he was Ron.

Simple as that.

* * *

_"That's it?"_

_It's a question, technically, but the words, spat out of his mouth, sound more like an accusation._

_"Ron..."_

_"No, you don't get to 'Ron' me. That's _it_?" _

_Hermione bites her bottom lip to keep from sobbing._

_"Yes," she whispers._

_The air pauses between them. _

_"Fuck that," he says._

_"What?"_

_"Fuck that, Hermione, this isn't...what the hell are you doing?"_

_He's as angry as she's ever seen him, and she's been around some of his more spectacular tempers._

_"Ron, don't yell."_

_"I'll yell if I bloody want to, Hermione, you're throwing this all away and you're standing there telling me not to yell?!"_

_She clenches her fists._

_"I'm not throwing it away!"_

_"Oh yeah?" His face is red and he is shaking he is so livid. "What do you call this? I love you, 'Mione, _I love you_, and last time I knew, you loved me too! So, fuck that!"_

_"I do love you, I do, I just..."_

_"You just. Oh, you just. Well, that explains everything, doesn't it? She loves me. She's dumping me, too, she's chucking away our entire relationship, but that doesn't matter, because 'oh just!'" His voice is so loud she closes her eyes instinctively. _

_"I can't do this anymore, Ron! I...I can't care anymore."_

_And with that, she turns and walks out of their apartment. _

_"Fuck you, I don't care either!" he screams at her back as she leaves._

_She gets all the way to Harry and Ginny's house before she starts to cry._

* * *

"It's because of Ron, isn't it?"

Hermione was surprised by how calm this conversation was, how gentle it was in comparison to her other breakups. Malfoy shredded her heart, Terry was incredibly awkward, and Ron...breaking up with Ron was like slamming a hurricane into a tornado.

But here Oliver was, sitting on their couch, staring down at his clasped hands. He hadn't raised his voice once.

"Yes," she said simply, because if she was going to break the man's heart, she might as well do it honestly.

"I had a feeling." Oliver jiggled his left leg, a nervous habit he had whenever he was upset or stressed. "At his engagement party."

She nodded.

"Did you know then?" he asked.

Hermione shifted on the couch.

"I don't know," she replied. "Not consciously. But it's...I think it's always been there."

Oliver took in a deep breath.

"That's one of the reasons I asked you, you know. I thought, if she says yes, she can't love him." He finally looked up at her. "I thought, Hermione would never be with someone if she was in love with someone else."

Hermione reached out to grab his hand. He clasped hers tightly, holding on desperately.

"I didn't want it to be like this, Oliver. I do love you. But I can't..."

"But you can't," he repeated softly.

They sat in silence, hands still joined.

* * *

_"Hey," Ron says._

_Hermione looks up. She stares at him, not even bothering to hide her surprise._

_"Hey," she eventually manages._

_Ron comes forward and sits next to her. She sets down her book. He looks at the carpet. She can't tear her eyes away from him._

_"Anything good on the telly?" he asks, and her face softens._

_As she watches him settle himself onto the couch, slowly work his way back into familiarity, reach for the remote, start half-minded chatter while he watches, Hermione realizes that she will always love this man._

* * *

"I'm a cow."

"Yes, you are, but that color is really lovely on you, and my arms are going to fall off if I don't set this basket down soon, so can we please get moving?"

"I want to apparate."

"You can't apparate."

"Why not?"

"Because you're eight months pregnant. Ginny, stop being childish and keep moving."

The redhead stuck her tongue out at Hermione.

"You're a tyrant."

"No, I'm just a very hungry woman who's holding a lot of food. And you're a very pregnant woman, a beautiful woman, just pregnant, who has a very hungry husband and a very hungry son waiting for us very close by, so can we please, _please_, keep walking?"

Ginny turned away from her reflection in the side of the building next to them.

"Why am I a cow?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake..." Hermione restrained herself from saying anything further and began to walk. "We're two blocks away from the park. You can join me when you've stopped being vain."

Grumbling, Ginny waddled to catch up. Finally, the two women arrived at the park, where they saw a laughing Harry playing chase games with James a short distance away.

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she watched her friend.

"You do realize that he's going to spoil your daughter rotten, don't you?"

Ginny came to a stop, wheezing.

"That man is a fool for children. He's never going to let me be not pregnant again." She held up her hand as Hermione started walking over to them. "No, no more. I declare this to be the spot. Let them come to us."

"Sounds good to me," Hermione said, quickly setting down the picnic basket with a groan and sinking beside it. "My arms feel like butter. I need to exercise more."

Harry glanced up and saw them. His face breaking into a grin, he swung a laughing James int

his arms and joined the women.

"I wanna go to Aunty Mione!" James yelled, his hands grabbing for the brunette.

"So loyal, my son," Ginny muttered, lowering herself to the ground.

Hermione promptly found herself in possession of one lap full of squirming toddler.

"What do you feed him, Harry?" she asked. "He weighs as much as an elephant."

Harry dropped down beside his wife, giving her a quick kiss.

"Blame Ginny. I was always a skinny child."

"And I'm a cow," the redhead repeated her litany. "Now give me food."

"Yes, my darling, my light, my love," Harry opened the basket and began rummaging.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You're in a scarily chipper mood, Harry," she began, automatically removing James' hands from her necklace. "Might I ask why the high spirits?"

The dark haired man shrugged, pulling out pieces of chicken and handing them to his wife.

"Oh, just my normal mood, I guess," he said, but Hermione saw the mischievous glint in his eyes and narrowed her own in suspicion.

"I still don't know why you asked me to get so much food, Harry," Ginny said, marveling at the contents of the basket in front of them. "You know I'm eating for two, not twenty, right?"

"I thought it would be best in case we had some company." Harry took a bite from and apple and winked at Hermione.

"Harry James Potter," she started to threaten, fed up, but was cut off by Ginny's squeal.

"Ron!"

Hermione stopped breathing and her heart constricted. Her head whipped around.

The redhead strolled towards them, infuriatingly casual.

"Mr. Weasley, how lovely of you to join us," Harry said, grinning.

"Just passing by, you know," Ron replied. "Are you having a picnic of some sorts?" He hugged Harry, bent to kiss his sister on the cheek, and tickled his nephew until James was shrieking defeat. Through it all, Hermione sat almost frozen, unable to look away from him, so startlingly aware of every muscle in her body.

Ron turned to her and she thought she might as well just die there.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft.

"Seems like you and Harry have been doing a little bit of plotting." She was proud of how normal her voice was, and how she didn't tremble when he hugged her.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were coming back! I can't believe _you_ didn't tell me he was coming," Ginny brandished a chicken leg threateningly at her husband. "How long are you staying?"

Ron sat down crossed legged next to Hermione. His thigh brushed her foot.

"Well, I was thinking the next sixty years or so, at least."

"You're staying for good?" Hermione's voice squeaked, and she cursed herself.

Ron glanced at her.

"Yup. My assignment ended early, and to be honest, I couldn't wait to get away from that desert. Harry and I decided we'd have a bit of fun. Pass the chicken?"

Hermione handed him some food automatically, trying not to brush his fingers with hers.

"Is Lydia coming later?" Ginny said, slightly muffled by the grapes in her mouth.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look that made something inside Hermione twist a little bit tighter.

"Um, no," Ron started. "I broke off the engagement."

"Oh, Ron. I'm so sorry." The redheaded witch didn't sound very sorry at all, but at least she looked convincing.

Ron shrugged.

"Mum'll kill me, but oh well. Just wasn't supposed to happen."

Hermione's head was light and her entire body was throbbing, but she feigned normality and somehow, got through the entire meal. She knew she must have talked, because other people laughed at her jokes, she knew she must have listened, because no one commented on her distraction, but for the life of her, all she could think was that Ron was sitting next to her.

A while later, at the first rumbling of the clouds overhead, Harry sighed and began to pack up the leftover food.

"We should probably head home before it starts to rain."

The foursome slowly clambered to their feet. Harry roused a sleeping James, who drowsily clung to his mother's hand, and picked up the picnic basket.

"Ugh. Do we really have to walk back?" Ginny asked. Harry laughed.

"James doesn't say a word, and you're the one complaining. I won't let you forget this."

"You wouldn't," she said darkly, and embraced Ron and Hermione each in turn. "I"ll see you later. If I survive the trek, that is."

The Potters walked away, Harry turning back slightly to wave. Hermione watched them go with rising dread as she realized she was now alone with Ron.

"Where are you staying?" she asked casually.

"I'm at the Leaky Cauldron for about a week until my apartment opens back up again. Not too bad."

"Well, I should probably head home," Hermione said, starting to rush away.

"Wait," Ron said, and she stopped, tensed. "You apparating?"

She shook her head.

"I sort of feel like a walk right now."

"Even if it rains?"

"Especially."

He moved to join her.

"Here, I'll walk you. Your flat's on my way, anyway."

There was nothing she could say to dispute that, so they began to walk slowly away from the park.

The first few blocks were silent. Hermione kept glancing at Ron out of the corner of her eye, trying to be surreptitious. She hated him for being so seemingly calm, so at ease, while her entire body was rioting.

"Sorry I didn't write as much as I promised," Ron said around the third block.

"No, it's alright. I liked the letters you did send."

"I'm glad."

Around block seven, Hermione cleared her throat.

"So, um, the thing with Lydia? Are, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He laughed gently. "Actually, I feel great. Weird, I know."

At block ten, she stumbled on the curb, and he caught her arm to steady her.

"Thanks," she said, blushing.

"No problem," he replied, his hand letting go of her arm. She felt that it left an imprint behind.

"I heard about Oliver. Are you okay?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'm okay. I feel...I feel bad really, but I, I wasn't ready for that."

Ron made a small noise in assent.

Five blocks later, just as the rain started gently drizzling down, Hermione stopped in front of her building.

"Well," she said. "This is me. Thanks for walking me back. There's an apparation point right around the block, if you want."

Ron shook his head.

"I've missed the rain. I think I'll just keep walking. It's not far."

He moved forward to hug her, and her eyes closed instinctively as his arms closed around her. All too soon, he released her and stepped back.

"I'll see you around," he murmured, and she raised a hand in farewell.

Hermione almost raced into her building. She got as far as the foot of the stairs before she stopped short. For one long moment, she stood there, foot poised to begin the climb, eyes fixed on some point ahead of her on the wall. Then she whirled around, accelerating quickly from a walk into a jog into a run as she raced out the door.

She frantically ran after the tall redhead moving steadily away from her. Her hair clung to her face, small rivulets of water beginning to course down her shirt as the rain came down in earnest.

"Ron," she cried as she drew closer. He turned and she didn't pause, she didn't think, but as once before, she hurled herself into his arms and kissed him fiercely.

"I love you," The words spilled out of her mouth as she pulled back. "I love you, I've always loved you, I...I tried so hard, and I thought I wasn't, but then we weren't talking and it hurt so much and I saw you again and you were just so – you were you and – it's like you said, every time I see you something stops, something just _ends_ in me, because it's you and it's me and you have to love me back, you just have to." She ended in a rush, her hands still gripping his arms. Gathering all the courage she possessed, Hermione raised her eyes to meet his.

She had no time to register the look on his face before his mouth was on hers again, his arms crushing her against his body, his hands in her rain-soaked hair. When they finally parted, breathless, she was able to appreciate that look in his eyes that had been there so many years ago, the look that said she was light and dark and that he had no idea how she had ended up there.

"Silly girl," Ron murmured as he kissed her again. "What took you so long?"

* * *

_There is a strange feeling in her chest as she walks away._

_It is not exactly excitement, though that's part of it, and it's not exactly fear, though that's there too. She enjoys the rocking of the train beneath her feet as she moves from compartment to compartment and tries to forget that odd shifting inside her._

_But when they are all crowded into the hall, scared and wet and surrounded by so many other, older students, her eyes naturally find the boy who had dirt on his nose._

_The dirt is still there, and Hermione feels that she may be on the brink of something very important, if only she can figure it out._

* * *

**THE END**

* * *


End file.
